


Falling Away With You

by maxcellwire



Category: Muse
Genre: Angst, Attempt at humour, Drabble Collection, Ficlet Collection, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-02-14
Updated: 2013-09-16
Packaged: 2017-12-15 22:37:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 18,371
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/854776
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maxcellwire/pseuds/maxcellwire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Collection of drabbles and short stories. Often non-AU and in correlation with Muse shenanigans.<br/>Some are being moved over from ff.net, others are new. Each has its own vague summary.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Good Old-fashioned Lover Boy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Era: Teen through to Absolution non-AU  
> Themes: Fluff

Dominic opened the door in the morning with his schoolbag slung over his shoulder, turning to say Goodbye to his parents, and almost stepped on the flower. There, on the mat laid over his doorstep, was a single rose, its delicate, blood red petals gently ruffling in the morning breeze. He bent down to pick it up, spinning the stem between two fingers and trying to avoid the spines as he admired it, a small smile gracing his face.  
"Dommy, you've got a Valentine!" his mother exclaimed from behind him, clapping her hands together and pressing a kiss into her son's hair. He felt his cheeks colour as he remembered the date, and suddenly it was all about trying to figure out who it was.  
"I have no idea who this could be from," he confessed, shrugging as he passed the flower back to his mum. She hurried into the kitchen to get a glass and filled it with water, letting the single flower float in it as she carried it back to the door and placed it on the shoe cupboard.  
"It'll be right there when you get back," she promised and Dom nodded, reaching back to push his hair behind his ears only to remember that it had been cut a few weeks back.  
When he finally reached the school and found his small group of friends in their usual corner of the form room, his smile had widened and his cheeks ached from grinning so much. Chris rolled his eyes and caught on immediately.  
"C'mon then, Dom, 'fess up. Who's the bird?" he asked, but Dom only shrugged in response.  
"No idea. I've got a secret admirer," he laughed over the words as he plopped himself down beside Matt, who was regarding him with jealous eyes.  
"Seems like Emma was right when she told you to get your hair cut."  
"S'pose so." Chris nudged Matt as he slipped into his seat.  
"Maybe it's time you did, too, y'know? Might have more luck next year."  
Matt's cheeks flushed the same colour as the rose petals and he hid behind the sleek curtain of chestnut, remaining unusually quiet for the rest of the day.  
*  
Dom didn't find out who the Valentine was.  
A few years later, however, and he received another clue. Having finally left school, the boys were experimenting with music and trying to create a few songs for an EP to send out to various record producers. Chris had left to go and organise his 'romantic evening' for Kelly, at which both the other boys scoffed, and had left the pair to lounge in Dom's garage. Matt was cradling an acoustic guitar in his lap and gently stroking the strings as he plucked out a melody he'd been practising for a few weeks. As he played, he began to hum along, watching Dom spinning his drumsticks as he did. The blonde boy looked up curiously.  
"When did you learn that?" he asked, his eyebrows drawn together as he took in the song and it grew in complexity.  
"In Greece, when I was over there," Matt explained. "D'you like it?"  
Dom had briefly forgotten Matt's trip away, but with the conversation he suddenly remembered the postcard that had arrived in the post the day before the younger boy returned home. It had contained the standard message and expression of love for the foreign weather, was written on the back of a photograph of a golden beach, holidaymakers relaxing in the constant sunshine. However, at the bottom of the card, Matt's scrawling print: missing you.  
Chris hadn't received a postcard.  
"Yeah, I love it. Sounds really..." Dom waved his hand about as he tried to find a word and then sighed, "Just sounds lovely."  
Matt's lips quirked up at the corners.  
"Good."  
*  
Yet another few years were behind them and suddenly the boys were in the studio recording their second album, not entirely sure how they'd got there but ecstatic all the same. Matt was slumped over the piano and Dom presumed that he was either sleeping or drunk. As he got up to get his leather jacket and leave, Matt moved his head and started to sit up, his hands bracing himself against the keys, a loud discord sounding around the room.  
"No, Dom, don't go!" he cried. "I'm sorry, I must've been boring you." Dom waved it off.  
"Don't worry about it, mate. It's getting quite late anyway."  
"Hold on." Matt held up a hand and reached down the side of the piano to produce a bottle of red wine, the burgundy liquid swirling around in the glass bottle as he held it out for Dom's approval. The blonde rolled his eyes and shucked off his jacket again, slipping onto the piano stool beside Matt. Two glasses of wine were poured, one handed to Dom, and the two boys-men, now-were holding their glasses together, the customary clink vibrating between them.  
"Cheers." Matt giggled to himself and sipped his wine, his eyes falling closed again as he savoured the taste, head falling back slightly. He hummed on an exhalation, swallowing the last of it.  
"That is absolutely gorgeous." Dom missed his eyes sliding to the side, instead choosing to remark on the wine.  
"How come you have this down the side of the piano anyway?" Matt shrugged.  
"It's always handy to have wine on hand."  
"Not wine this posh. We're not quite that rich yet." The pair chuckled together.  
"I felt there might be an occasion soon enough. I was just preparing for the future."  
"And there's an occasion now?"  
No answer.  
*  
The tour bus was quite cramped, and the three of them often found themselves sprawled over each other in the middle of the night, especially after a particularly exhausting 'party'. What Dom was not expecting, however, was a little flame-haired Matt clinging to him. His face was peaceful in his sleep, the lewd smirk wiped off his face to reveal the boy Dominic knew underneath.  
"C'mon, Matt. Ger'off," he slurred, rubbing his eyes to rid himself of sleepers. The smaller men mewled and his arms wound around Dom's torso.  
"Noo, Dommy, noo."  
"Matt, it's too hot in here."  
"Wanna...stay...just like this."  
Dom sighed and ran a hand over his face.  
"Mm...love...love you...hm."  
Dom fell silent.  
*  
Matt's slender fingers wrapped themselves around the stem of the glass, staring at Dom over the rim as the blonde tried-and failed-to chat up a woman at the bar.  
"Dominic."  
Dom ignored him.  
"Dom."  
Dom was still oblivious to Matt calling him.  
"Dominic!"  
"Yes, Matt?" Dom asked, exasperated, as he finally stopped pestering the women.  
"That's better." Dom growled, narrowing his eyes.  
"Are you serious?" Matt only smirked in reply. The silence between them was tangibly awkward for a few moments, and then Dom was fumbling in his pocket. He produced an envelope and began to unfold it, Matt's heart hammering as he realised what was in Dom's hands.  
"Did you write this?" Dom inquired, holding out a letter with handwriting that he didn't quite recognise yet did.  
"No," Matt lied, looking away as he sipped his wine, his jaw tense. Dom allowed himself a moment of private victory. That knocked him off his high horse.  
"Shame. I liked it a lot."  
"What is it?"  
"Just a love letter. Confessions of oh so passionate daydreams and all that romantic lark. You'd probably appreciate it more than I would, I suppose."  
"Who sent you that?"  
"Do you think I'd be asking you whether you wrote it if I did? Honestly, Bells, you're so clever yet you act like an idiot." Matt hid behind his wine glass, ducking his head, and then he raised it slightly and stared at Dom.  
"You think I'm clever?" he asked tentatively. Dom chuckled softly.  
"I know you're clever. God only knows what's going on in that crazy head of yours, but I'm damned sure it's more intelligent than anything I could ever think up." Matt felt his cheeks heat and pressed the cool glass against them to calm down, biting his lip. Dom leaned closer.  
"Come on," he whispered. "Don't lie to me. You wrote it."  
Matt didn't answer; his heart was pounding wildly, his nerves thrumming with antcipation of his discovery.  
"Matthew," Dominic sang, to no response. His newly formed fringe blew out of place as he exhaled heavily and lifted himself out of his seat. Matt watched him, his eyes following that toned body, and remained silent, thinking Dominic was leaving.  
As he began to wallow in his loneliness, rethinking everything he'd done for the past ten years, he felt two hands on his shoulders and tensed up, cool lips at his ear.  
"Come on, Lover Boy," Dominic whispered to him. Matt turned in his seat, throwing his arms over Dom's shoulders.  
"Take me back to yours."


	2. Musos for Losers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Era: T2L non-AU  
> Themes: Angst, Unrequited Affection, Alcohol

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not quite as fluffy or funny as the title may lead you to believe. Apologies.

"I heard you stapled some of our Musos to some poor girl's arse last night," Matt asked, his voice bouncing off the walls and his footsteps increasing in volume as he got closer and closer to Dom. The blonde man cracked one eye open and stared up at Matt, who had his arms folded across his chest. Dom sighed and turned over, burying his face into the the pillow in the hopes of smothering his hangover. "What the hell made you do it?"

There was a muffled grumble, to which Matt replied, "Come on, get up, you lazy arse. You've had worse than this before."

Matt tapped his foot impatiently on the floor and he waited for Dom to drag himself out of bed, still wearing the same skinny jeans and leather jacket from the night before. "Christ, Dom, you absolutely reek."

The blonde man rolled his eyes and groaned, shuffling away from the bed to fix himself a cup of coffee. His hand slapped the surface of the counter as he blindly fumbled for some paracetamol, and he was aware of Matthew still floating around behind him.

"Look, don't you go acting all high and mighty on me," Dom muttered, swallowing two pills and pouring boiling water into the mug he'd set out in front of him. Some of it splashed onto his wrist and he hissed as the pain sizzled on his skin. "You've had your fair share of wild nights, too."

Matt scoffed. "When we were younger, yes. But now we're growing up. I've got a family to look after, Dom. I have to set an example to-"

"Bullshit! The kids weren't even there! I know that you'd never let them anywhere near as debauched as that place. And you knew what you were getting yourself into when we booked the party, so don't you dare act all innocent and pretend you're some fantastic father figure just because you're getting boring." Matt's eyebrows slowly rose up his forehead as he regarded Dom slumped bleary-eyed in a chair at the table, head hanging as he tried and failed to bring the mug of coffee up to his lips.

"So I'm boring, now." There was a pause as Dom sighed, running a hand through his hair and getting frustrated when he found his fingers getting caught in matted knots. He slammed his fist back down onto the table, the wood shaking with the force.

"That's not what I mean."

"It sure as hell sounded like it."

"And you know I don't always say what I feel."

Matt rubbed the back of his neck, realising he was in far too deep all of a sudden. He'd only come into the room to wake Dom up so they could get on the road, and now he was being dragged into a heart-to-heart, which were becoming ever more infrequent and ever more painful. He slipped into the chair opposite Dom.

"Yes, you have been rather secretive, lately." Dom grunted, taking a large gulp of his coffee and lifting his head up to look Matt in the eye. He really did look dreadful, bags under his eyes drooping and his hair stuck to his forehead with dried sweat. Matt knew that he would spend the next two hours making sure that he was fresh and, by the time he emerged, he would be looking immaculate and ready for the day. Only he saw Dom before he put on that exterior.

"What of it?"

"I'm your best mate, Dom. I want to know what's troubling you. Everything's perfect at the moment and yet you keep getting fucked up like this and I don't understand why."

"Why do you even care?" Matt frowned as Dom averted his gaze again, concentrating on his steaming cup of coffee.

"What do you mean? I care because you're my friend and you have been for over twenty years, Dom. When have I not cared?" There was a mutter from the other man that went straight over Matt's head. He blinked.

"Sorry, what?"

"It's nothing."

"Well it's obviously something important to you, if you're getting this worked up over it." Dom slammed the mug down on the table, coffee sloshing out and spilling over the surface, seeping into the few papers collected there. They ignored it.

"I just got drunk, okay? I was just trying to have a good time and I was enjoying myself and I was hoping to get laid and I didn't, right. So I was annoyed and I drank more. That's all. Stop making mountains out of bloody molehills."

"Dom, I can see it's-"

"That's always the way with you, isn't it? Always something more than it is and you're searching for something that doesn't exist. Just go and run back to your fiancee and tell her your friend's holding up the line because he's too drunk to stand, I don't care." Matt sat in silence, watching Dom's actions. They remained motionless for a good few moments. "Go on. Fuck off."

"Fine."

Matt's voice was a soft whisper, and the only sound in the room was that of the chair legs scraping against the vinyl floor. He shoved his hands in his pockets and left the room, slamming the door as he left and punching a hole through Dominic's stomach. Again. He'd done it again.


	3. Furious Destruction

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Era: T2L non-AU  
> Themes: Introspection

He stands on the edge of the stage and, for the first time in several years, he looks nervous. I have grown so used to seeing him looking victorious, exhilaration colouring his cheeks and a huge smile splitting his face, that this almost sees unnatural to me. Even though I am aware of his volatile nature and dramatic mood swings, it still catches me off guard. He shouldn't be looking like this. Not on stage, where we're most at home. Surrounded by people that love us-how could he possibly be upset?

And yet there he is, trembling slightly. Perhaps it's just the wind, but his hands are shaking and I'm surprised I'm the only one that's noticed it. He's shrunken in on himself, now, and the way he holds the microphone as if it were something fragile suggests that he's more disturbed by earlier events than he's led us to believe.

A blackout. It's been a while since that happened to us, our technology usually perfect now that we've got the right people on the road. It's been a while since anything too bad has happened to us music-wise, in fact, which is probably why it came as such a shock to us. We knew this crowd was going to be difficult to get going, what with our supporting acts being a little dubious, and we knew we were going to have to work hard. This is America; they want to see your effort, want to see your commitment. After twelve years of desperate touring here, we weren't about to give up.

And yet it almost seems as if he has.

Being professionals, of course, we continue with our set as if nothing is wrong. He croons into the microphone and struts around with the guitar swinging over his shoulder, trying his best to impress the hordes of people staring up at us from the field below the stage. To the untrained eye, nothing would seem wrong, but I know better.

He walks towards me at the end of Uprising, and there's a glint in his eyes that unnerves me, the hairs on my arm standing on end. There's an amp to the right of my drum kit, an amp that takes almost as much loving abuse as I do, and he's heading for it like a heat seeker. As soon as they collide, everything will blow up.

The guitar crashes against the amp once, and the sound is so familiar yet completely foreign. There's a look of rage on his face that I haven't seen since the early years, when countless faulty guitar systems had him so aggravated that the whole setup was trashed by his uncontrollable anger. He's a force to be reckoned with, when he wants to be, and, as the guitar hits the amp a second time, I know it's not going to survive.

The Matt-tornado spins to the edge of the stage, swinging the guitar by the headstock as he sometimes does. He goes around and around, once, twice, three time, and then is launched into the sky, cutting through the still air and soaring towards my drumkit. I flinch instinctively as it crashes down against the drum riser and I can see there's a chunk missing from the back, just like there's a chunk missing from Matthew's current demeanour.

The amp falls to the floor with a thump that can barely be heard over the feedback from the guitar, and he's kicking it so hard that he'll end up with bruises tomorrow. I know better than to try and interrupt him when he's in one of these moods, so I merely watch and play, watch and play as he destroys everything around him and hope that he doesn't destroy me, too.

He's still not calm when we're in the dressing room after the gig.

He's still not calm when he's sipping his customary glass of red wine, because I can see his hands are still shaking and his eyes are still narrowed and the lines in his forehead just get deeper and deeper and deeper.

He worries me a lot.

Even when he grumbles into my shirt when I throw an arm around his shoulder and hold him to my chest, even when his fists are clenched and I know that he's remembering the gigs from the early days when nobody appreciated us, he's still himself.

Because he is the anger that boils up inside him. He is the emotions he feels, and he makes everything else part of him. Everything he touches feels what he feels, and I know that his negative energy is seeping into me through our shirts, but I'll gladly take it. It's probably safer in me than in that tiny weapon. I know better than anyone that only the slightest thing can set him off, and he always finishes what he starts.

He will get over this. It might take a few days, perhaps until the next gig, to restore his confidence, or he might be back to normal in an hour or two. He might get distracted and stop thinking about it, might lose himself in a few more glasses of wine and let the memory drift away. Perhaps one day, if I'm very lucky, he'll forget as soon as he crawls into my lap. It's a power I don't possess just yet, but I'm working on it.


	4. Walk of Shame

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Era: BHaR non-AU  
> Themes: First time, Implied sex, language

Strobe lights flash across the room. Thumping music shakes the very foundations of the building. The air is almost foggy, CO2 blocking Matt's view of the crowd except for those people directly in front of him. He knows that Dom is somewhere in that mass of writhing bodies, but he hasn't seen him for at least half an hour. Empty glass in hand, Matt heads back to the bar to get a refill. He slips onto the stool there, swivelling around to survey the scene. He has already had three beers, and he's debating whether to go onto something with a bit more oomph; he's danced with three different people already and is sweating like a beast; he's surrounded by beautiful women batting their eyelashes and pouting at him.

It's safe to say that Matthew Bellamy is having a fantastic evening.

Dom is also enjoying himself rather a lot. With two gorgeous girls on either arm, he's enjoying being pampered in one of the booths. In fact, he would be content to stay here the whole night, if he didn't know that they were needed in the recording studio the following day.

Still, it was their night out. They were going to enjoy it, even if Chris had decided he'd rather not try to make the album with a hangover, and Tom was crying over his latest broken camcorder.

Having downed a shot or two, Matt is now sufficiently drunk. He grins to himself, leaning sideways and almost toppling off the stool. One of the women beside him giggles and moves to help him up, pushing her breasts in his face as she did so. His eyes fall unfocused as he is sat back down, and he bangs his forehead with his fist.

"I need to find Dom," he states simply, and scrambles off the chair towards the dancefloor. He pushes his way through the quagmire, the people around him brushing his exposed skin and sending tingles down his spine. The smell here is...not entirely unpleasant, but not too great either. He can taste alcohol on his breath, and he knows that the smoke isn't just from the CO2; something dodgy was going on around here.

After declining several offers to dance, Matt appears on the other side of the dancefloor. He shakes himself out, taking a deep breath now that the air has cleared a little bit, and scans the area in search of Dom.

He finds his best mate lying in a red leather booth, two girls stroking his skin as he speaks to them lowly. Matt can't hear what he's saying, and isn't yet close enough to read the words from Dom's lips, but he can see the girls giggling. He makes his way over to them, sliding onto the seat on the opposite side of the table and smirking as he waits for Dom to notice him.

A blonde head pokes over the top of the table and grins, and Dom reaches out a hand to give Matt a sloppy high-five.

"Hey, mate, how's your night?" he asks, one of the girls crawling further down his body. Matt is watching her as he replies,

"Pretty good, yeah. I'm smashed." The pair laugh, one high-pitched, the other deep and throaty.

"Don't tell me you're heading back to the hotel." Matt scoffs incredulously.

"Of course not! I was wandering if you were going to get up and dance, is all." He scratches the back of his neck, feeling sweat begin to spring up there, his collar suddenly too tight.

"Yeah, I guess I might. Why? You looking for a partner?"

"No!" Matt answers quickly, glancing away from Dom to see that the girls had started onto each other, now. He rolls his eyes. "I was just curious." He stands up and edges out of the booth. "I'm going up now. See you in a bit."

Dom watches as Matt disappeared into the crowd, the wild party-goers swallowing him up immediately. He rolls out of position, apologising to the women, and follows after him. A wave of heat hits him as he approaches the dancefloor, the dancers generating enough power for the whole of New York City. He pushes through the couples, recklessly accepting an unknown drink from a stranger and downing it in one. Stumbling to the side, he hands the glass back with a grateful smile and continues his search.

There, in the middle of the dancefloor, he can see the skinny figure of Matt sidling up to some woman. As he watches, the woman ducks her head and shuffles off, and Dom can see Matt's cheeks flushing from something other than the warmth of the room. He chuckles to himself and makes his way over, sliding his hands over Matt's shoulders from behind. Startled, Matt tries to break free, but a simple, "Hello," in his ear is enough to make him relax.

"Hi," he croaks back, his voice barely audible over the deafening music. Nothing can be made out except the drum pattern, something that Dom revels in but Matt finds slightly off-putting. The music shakes their bones, coursing through their veins in time to the beat of their hearts. Matt is distracted from his growing headache, however, when he realises that Dom still has his arms draped over his shoulders and is gently swaying behind him. Without thinking, Matt grabs Dom's hands to rest them on his waist, leaning back into his arms. Dom immediately tightens his hold and starts to move a bit more forcefully, pressing himself into Matt's back. The brunette leans his head back until it is almost resting on Dom's shoulder and looks up at him with darkened, cobalt eyes.

The damp ends of his hair are curling at the edges of his forehead, his skin almost glowing under the flashing lights. The exposed column of his neck reveals tendons that seem to dance under his skin. Dom swallows, his hand subconsciously tangling itself in the rich, dishevelled locks, and Matthew's eyes slip closed.

The pair move together slowly, the alcohol clouding their brains until their surroundings are fuzzy, and all they can feel is the other. Matt arches his back until he is pressing into Dominic, and that's when it changes. A sharp intake of breath is all that is needed for the small man to turn himself around and press his lips to Dom's, hot breath shared between them as rosy lips slide and pull. Firm hands draw him closer, one between his shoulder blades, the other shamelessly venturing lower, sparks of pleasure shooting up their bodies as they come close.

Matt pulls back, Dom whining as he pouts. "Come on," he says breathily, "let's get out of here." Slim fingers wrap around Dom's wrist as he is led to the bar. Matt tosses some cash onto the surface and they escape from the room as swiftly as possible, the cool midnight air outside hitting them as they peer around the curb.

"We'll be waiting ages for a cab," Dom groans.

"Let's just walk, then," Matt suggests, tugging on Dom's arm as he leads him down the road. They stumble over the pavement together, giggling when the other trips up, and eventually find themselves outside the hotel.

"In, in, in," Matt urges, pushing Dom through the double doors into the foyer. They try to be discreet as they hobble over to the stairs, but when Matt clatters up and bursts into laughter only five steps up, everybody in the lobby stares at the door.

It takes them several minutes to reach their floor but, eventually, they do find themselves in the corridor. It is hushed here, most of the residents sleeping already, and Matt's giggles are the only things to be heard. He fumbles in Dom's trouser pockets for the door key, waggling his eyebrows lewdly as he gives his thigh a squeeze. Dom squeaks and plucks the key from Matt's fingers, unlocking the room.

They don't even bother to turn the light on.

The following morning, Matt wakes up with a pounding in his head. His eyes water as he squints over at the clock on the bedside table and he laughs quietly to himself. Of course. Chris was going to be so pissed.

He rolls over onto his front and is met with a solid, warm body. He grins to himself, hand sliding up this person's torso and gently stroking the soft skin there. When he is met with a flat chest, however, he pauses. Confusion forces his face to crease up, and he sits up slowly, holding one hand to his head. Glancing over at said person in his bed, he swears furiously.

Surely he hadn't gone to bed with a certain blonde man, who just happened to have tempting biceps, right?

Surely he wouldn't have gone to bed with any man, let alone his best friend?

But, no, there's Dom, sleeping his bed like it's no big deal.

Is this even his bed?

Dom turns over in his sleep, and suddenly Matt is trapped by a tanned arm. He swallows, looking down at it and seeing red marks all along the length of his muscle. Are those...?

Yes, it's all coming back to him now. As he tries to shake his hangover free, he remembers some of last night. Only glimpses and flashes, but they hold enough importance to change him. He remembers half-lidded, stormy eyes staring at him and a feeling deep within him that's unfamiliar yet so completely perfect. He remembers feeling his own lips on tanned skin, biting down to mark it as his own. He remembers dragging his fingernails down a muscled back, the glorious feeling of hot, sweaty skin beneath him. He remembers slightly salty kisses, remembers giggles and deep groans and Dominic.

He bites his lip.

Did it all happen?

Is he glad it happened? He certainly isn't as freaked out as he expects himself to be, but this isn't the first time he's woken up in the same bed. Far from it, in fact. The only thing different about this time is that he's naked as the day he was born, and Dom isn't so close to the edge of the bed that he's about to fall off.

He hears a cough from behind him and turns his head to see Dom's eyes starting to open. There's an exasperated groan, and his eyes flutter shut again before reopening suddenly.

"Matt?" Dom exclaims, his voice too sleepy to be firm. "What the hell are you doing in my bed?" There's the subtle glance down, and Matt knows that Dom can see his pale, bare shoulders, and is probably just registering cold feet pressed against his shins. Matt smiles uneasily.

"You don't remember, do you?"

"Oh, God, we didn't. Oh, no," Dom groans, throwing himself to the other side of the bed and taking the duvet with him. Matt yelps as his naked body is exposed to the chilly air, tugging on the duvet for a bit of coverage. It won't budge.

"Dom." No reply. "Dom. Dominic, I can see your arse. Dommy!" His voice turns sing-song as he pokes the flesh, and Dom squirms, tucking the duvet underneath him. "I'm just going to lie here, butt-naked, until you give me some duvet."

Horrified, Dom throws the duvet back in Matt's direction, the smaller man smirking with victory.

The sound of knocking on the door startles them out of their playing, and they glance at each other and then back to the door comically.

"Shit," Matt hisses. He scrambles out of the bed, hearing Dom's cries of, "No! I am scarred for life, now. No-o!"

"I don't know why you're so afraid of my bum, Dom. You spent enough time there last night," Matt says, accompanying the statement with a cheeky wink. Dom buries his head in his pillows.

The banging is more insistent now, and the pair can hear the sound of Chris outside.

"If you don't open this damn door, Dom, I'm gonna come in," he yells. Matt stumbles across the room.

"I can't find my clothes!" he cries. "Dom, where did we put them?"

"I don't know!" Dom answers, his voice strained. He runs a hand through his hair and leaves it there, tugging on the strands. "Just throw some of mine on and get in the bathroom."

Matt picks up the first thing he can find and scurries into the en-suite, locking the door and disappearing. Dom flops out of the bed, wrapping his dressing gown around him and opening the door for a very angry Chris.

"You were supposed to be at the studio nearly two hours ago!" Chris exclaims, throwing his hands up.

"Sorry, mate. Must've slept in," Dom mumbles.

"Clearly. Don't you know how to work an alarm?" Chris angry voice goes right to Dom's head, his hangover making him woozy.

"I-yeah. I don't remember it, though. It didn't go off." Chris sighs and leans against the doorframe.

"Fine, whatever. This is your time too, so it's your time you're wasting lying here in bed." Dom nods. "And, while you're at it, do you have any idea where the hell Matt's got to? He didn't answer at all, and I even got reception to ring up his desk, but there was no reply." Dom shrugs in the hopes that Chris will leave him alone.

"Can't help you there, mate, sorry." Chris narrows his eyes.

"You always know where Matt is."

"Not today." There's an awkward silence between the two as Chris searches Dom's face, and it is only interrupted but a bang and the sound of Matt swearing from the bathroom. Chris raises his eyebrows slightly and steps into the room. Dom swallows nervously behind him.

"Chris, if you want me to get dressed, at least give me a little privacy," he orders, but Chris ignores him.

"Who've you got in here?" he asks, tapping on the bathroom door. All noises are silenced. "Pick up a bird last night, did we?" Dom nods shakily and watches as Chris looks down at the floor. He hooks his foot through a pair of braces on the floor, holding them up on his Converses, and his eyebrows skyrocket up to the roots of his hair.

"These don't look like yours," he remarks casually. "In fact, they look quite a lot like something I saw Matt wearing la-"

"Ok-ay, Chris, that's enough now!" Dom practically pushes him through the door in an attempt to usher him out. "I'm going to get dressed, and I'll see you at the studio. Hopefully one of us will run into Matt." There is another dubious noise from the bathroom and Dom curses inwardly.

"Yeah, hopefully," Chris mutters, shaking his head. He eyes Dom once more and then leaves the room, shutting the door behind him.

Dom collapses onto his bed and Matt falls out of the bathroom door, a pair of Dom's tight skinnies cutting off the blood supply to his legs.

"Dom, help," he squeaks, tugging at the legs in an attempt to yank them off.

"Matt, are we going to talk about last night?" Dom questions, searching through his suitcase for some paracetamol.

"Uh, I don't know, are we?"

"Well, I think we should."

"Okay. What do you-shit-want to say?"

"Just want to make sure that we both agree never to speak about this ever again to anybody ever."

"Sounds like a good plan," Matt agrees, struggling with the jeans. "Now could you please help me get these off, preferably before I die."

"If I must," he sighs dramatically.


	5. Nights Become Days

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Era: Whichever, non-AU  
> Themes: Illness, Established Relationship, Angst

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by this: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DfGX7qiXB8w

I remember in the early days, Dominic, when we sat on the roof of your Mum's house with a bottle of cider. It was bitter on our tongues, so much so that you screwed your nose up in an adorable fashion, but we still finished the whole bottle. Lying back on the tiles of the roof, we watched as the sun rose over the horizon, the air warming up with each extra ray. The colours bled into the sky, clouds of rose drifting across the dusky blue morning. The flaming orb bathed us in bright light, bouncing off your golden hair and highlighting all the dips and curves of your body.

I shuffled closer to you, startled when a tile began to shift beneath my feet. I clung to you, eyes wide with fear, your laughter ringing through the otherwise silent morning. You wrapped a strong, tanned arm around me and I nuzzled my head between your neck and your shoulder, feeling the skin there warming my cheek. You took another swig from the bottle, your Adam's apple bobbing as the liquid slid down your throat, and I pressed a kiss to the long column. You ruffled my hair with a lazy smile, your silver eyes falling shut slowly.

I remember it so clearly, Dominic. It was one of the best days of my life. Before the band and the hectic lifestyle that comes with it, before we got caught up in our own lives, before everything went wrong.

Not that I'm saying the band was a bad thing, because you and I both know that we enjoyed it immensely, but I started to forget things that were really important. We grew bigger and bigger, successes pushing us right to the top, an army of fans lusting after our every move. The years passed by and we continued on with our lives, making music and driving our shiny, new cars around LA. I lived for the days we took out of our lives to simply be with each other, curling up together where I could stroke your hair freely. Those were the days when I reminded myself why I loved you and what we were fighting for.

I wish I'd paid more attention to them now, Dominic. We have all the time in the world, all the time until your countdown runs out.

Your hacking cough cuts through the silence in the room and I wince. It's worse than it originally was, worse than what I believed to be a simple cold. You were in bed for a few days, sleeping unless you were interrupted by another lump in your throat. I went about my days busily, playing the piano, buying food, continuing with my lifestyle. You were going to be better in a few days and you'd be up for going out with me again.

Except you weren't.

Your coughing sounded like you were about to throw up every time you opened your mouth, butting in when you wanted to speak and keeping you paralysed in bed. You were so weak that you could barely lift yourself onto your elbows when I brought your dinner. You spent at least half of the day sleeping and I sat by your side the whole time, holding your hand and caressing the skin there. We called a doctor in who sat beside me, taking your temperature and merely observing as you coughed up a lung in front of him. And then he told you and I could see the tears glistening in your eyes.

Oh, no, you don't have a terminal disease, Dominic. You're not going to die, Dominic, not unless you can't remain strong. It won't get to you if you fight against it with all your might, but I know that it's difficult, Dominic, believe me.

I took up permanent residence by your bedside, only leaving to clean myself up or make our dinners. I fed you soup and the tears streaked down your cheeks as you mumbled about how useless you felt. And I stroked your hair, tracing the tracks of the tears and drying your eyes, assuring you that wasn't the case. You were the strongest man I knew, putting up with all of this when the easiest thing to do would be to just sleep it off and forget about it.

We apologised to the fans, cancelling our gigs for an indeterminate amount of time, and they replied with sweet condolences and 'Get Well Soon' messages. You read them all, every single one, with a soft smile, and I was pleased to see the sparkle returning to your eyes.

We spent so much more time together, Dominic. There was a period of time when you grew stronger and the hope that filled me was overflowing, rinsing the others in the glee emanating from my soul. I drove you down to the coastline when you felt up to it, wrapping a thick blanket around your shrunken form and guiding you down to the beach. We could feel the warm sand slipping between our toes, the sun caressing our bare skin as I led you closer to the sea. A picnic mat was laid out, adorned with miniature sandwiches and dainty cakes that I'd seen your mother baking the day before. The grin that spread across you face was breathtaking as you knelt down beside our friends and family, thanking them for doing this.

We spent at least three hours there, surrounded by people we loved, simply enjoying a day out at the beach like any family. You stayed wrapped in the blanket, hugging your knees to your chest as you stared out at the azure ocean, the sun glinting off the surface like a magic spell. You managed to eat a few sandwiches, much to your mother's delight, and I kept my arm around your shoulders the whole time.

Inevitably, your condition grew worse, and you were confined to your bed again for a few weeks. You begged me to join you, and I laid on the mattress beside you, allowing you to gently stroke my face to your heart's desire as the tears tracked down your pale, sunken cheeks. I bit my lip as you smiled sadly at me and I knew immediately what you were thinking. You weren't able to fight anymore.

The disease started to overtake you, and I began to appreciate how much effort it must've taken to make that recovery only a few weeks ago. There were days when you didn't wake up once, and there were other days when your mind refused to let you sleep. My own rest was constantly disturbed by your coughing, and I would always roll over to rub your back and wrap my arms tightly around you until you calmed down.

I don't want this to happen, Dominic. You're so young, so alive and still as beautiful as ever. I love you more than I could ever say.

I brought you up to the roof of our house one night, the pair of us resting precariously on the tiles as we watched the sun rise. It looks different now, the bright colours muted now that I know what the future has in store, but it made you happy, and that's all I care about. You watched the sky and I watched your face, more and more of your flawless skin revealed to me as the sun rose and lit you up. I could see that shining in your eyes, the smile gracing your face, and I managed to kid myself that you were just like you used to be, that you were well and safe.

I'm going to have to let you go someday soon, Dominic, but I'm not ready just yet.


	6. Mysterious Pancakes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Era: Whatever  
> Themes: Fluff, Established relationship

This morning isn't one of anticipation for these two; the years they've spent together leave for neutral feelings about Valentine's Day. For them, every day is an expression of love and, although they continue the tradition and make it that extra bit special, there isn't a tangible excitement in the air. They haven't bought into the cheesy gift cards and the huge displays of balloons in the local shops, but prefer to lounge in bed until the late hours of the morning.

Dominic smiles as he brushes his hair out of his face, Matthew's sleeping form beside him gravitating to the warmth among the covers. Dom glanced at the clock and slid further down the bed until he was at the edge. He found Matthew's socked feet poking out from under the covers and reached for them, gently peeling the socks away. Yes, he was willing to do this for his love. Ignoring the slight smell-after all, they'd both had a shower the previous night-he took one of Matt's feet into his cupped palms and began to massage it gently. He ran the pads of his fingers along the sole of Matt's foot, sure that he was still asleep due to the lack of giggling and twitching, and dug his thumbs into the heel.

Matthew's back arched then, and Dominic could hear the muffled sound of bones clicking over a barely audible moan. Matthew kept his eyes shut, but he could feel the corners of his mouth pulling up into a soft smile. He rolled over onto his front and mumbled into the pillow. Dom switched feet and Matt wriggled his toes, the two men laughing together.

"Mm, Dom, that's...you don't have to do that," Matt told him, groaning despite himself.

"I want to. I can see how much you love it."

"Not as much as I love you. Come back up here." Dominic crawled back up the bed to lie on his side next to Matthew, brushing dark locks out of his sparkling eyes. They pressed their lips together gently for the first of many times that morning and Dom wrinkled his nose up. Seeing Matt's frown, he explained," Morning breath," with a teasing lilt. Matthew pouted indignantly and slipped out of the bed, padding to the bathroom. Dom heard the sounds of running water as Matt brushed his teeth, and he adjusted the cream covers of the bed, leaning back against the plush pillows and closing his eyes.

The next thing he knew, Matt had pounced on him and attacked his lips again, now refreshingly minty. Dom's head spun as he wrapped his arms around the smaller man.

"Happy Valentine's Day," Matthew murmured between kisses. Dom's lips twitched into a smile.

"Would you be up for going out today?" Matt pulled back, his messy bedhead making his grin of childish glee only look more excited.

"Going out? Where?" Dom tapped the side of his nose.

"Just out." Matt glanced towards the bedroom, where a few streaks of light were breaking into the bedroom, the rays settling on Dominic's skin to give him a sunny glow.

"Not outside out, right?" Dom smirked.

"Not for long." A sigh of relief. The freezing February weather and Matthew didn't mix, no matter how many layers he tried to stuff himself into. He didn't fancy traipsing around in leftover slush for a day, no matter how romantic Dominic was being.

"Then where?" Matt narrowed his eyes, to which Dominic's grin grew.

"You'll have to wait and see!"

"Dominic!" Matthew whined petulantly and Dominic prodded his lips before pulling himself away from the warmth and out of bed. He shrugged his dressing gown on as Matthew watched him, gave him a look that said, 'Follow me' and headed off downstairs. Matthew sighed, knowing he wasn't going to get what he wanted this time around, and reluctantly slid out of the bed one more time.

He could already smell breakfast cooking by the time he got downstairs, despite Dominic only having been there for a few moments. Batter was sizzling in a pan as Dom chopped fresh fruit on the kitchen counter, laying it in organised arrangements on the plates. Matt skipped over to the frying pan and flipped the pancake over before it burnt, Dom giving him a grateful look.

"Pancakes again?" Matt teased. "We only had them two days ago!"

"But we didn't make them ourselves on Tuesday, remember? We bought some ready-made ones from Tesco and just dumped as much golden syrup as we could over them. And you got sick from eating so many." Oh, yes. Matthew did in fact remember that.

"How kind of you to remind me." Matt rolled his eyes. "I guess I could stomach them for another day." Dom slapped his forearm playfully, the pair giggling as Matt slid a golden pancake onto a plate.

"Where are we going again, Dom?" Matt asked, his arm linked in Dom's. The pair were bundled up in coats, but were still wearing their typical sunglasses 'to protect from the brightness of the clouds'.

"I'm not going to fall for that, Matt," Dom laughed. "I haven't told you yet." Matthew sighed, poking his lips out in a pout and hoping to incur Dom's sympathy. The blonde merely smiled at him.

After a few minutes of walking and quiet chatter, the pair arrived at a local cafe that Dom had stumbled upon while shopping a few weeks before. Matt raised an eyebrow as he pushed the door open, a bell tinkling above them to mark their entrance. There were a few people scattered about the shop, some talking together in groups and others enjoying a coffee in the corner by themselves. Dom led Matt over to the counter where a display of cakes was on show underneath the glass and they picked one each, Dom ordering coffees with extra toppings for both of them. Sitting down by the window, Matt leaned back into the comfortable seat and sipped at his coffee, studying Dom's face.

"This place seems really, really nice, Dom," he commented, shrugging off his thick coat as he succumbed to the warmth of the cafe. Gentle music could be heard under the sound of people talking as they drank, soft piano tones intermingled with an orchestra. Matt distinctly recognised the piece but couldn't put a name to it as he scanned the wall behind Dom's head. There was a bookshelf laden with old novels and a few paintings in frames hung on the burgundy walls, a lamp in the corner casting light onto their table.

Matthew absolutely loved it. The smell of roasting coffee in the air made his head slightly woozy and a pleasant warmth settled in his chest. The taste of the milky coffee hit their tongues as they took a drink, whipped cream touching Dom's upper lip. He chuckled and licked it away, Matt smirking at him. Matt closed his eyes and gave a content sigh before leaning forward to try out the muffin he'd ordered.

"I thought you might like it. I came across it one day and just thought it seemed like the sort of place you'd like, y'know? I had to bring you here." Matt smiled softly, reaching over the table to clasp Dom's hand in his own.

"You're right; it's beautiful here. Thank you."

If they'd been watching anybody else, the couple would've deemed it too sickeningly romantic and immediately left. They didn't have much patience for others' displays of affection, but they didn't seem to realise how much they were gazing at each other. Their mutual feelings were almost tangible in the air surrounding them.

"We're definitely coming back here," Matt stated after they finished their drinks, snuggling back into the chair. Dom left his own seat to squish up next to Matthew, wrapping his arm around his shoulders. Matthew nuzzled into the space between Dom's chin and his collar, resting his head there and letting his eye slide closed. Dominic pressed a kiss to Matthew's hand, stroking the other man's shoulders.

"Happy Valentine's Day, love."


	7. Possessions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Era: probably around late BHaR, TR ish  
> Themes: Introspection

I want to own you. I want you to be near me all the time. I want to never lose the smile on your face, to always hold your hand close to mine. I want to have you in every way possible.  
I want you to be mine.  
I want to own the sparkle in your eyes, the silk of your skin, the taste of your breath and the scent of your hair and everything that makes you who you are. I want it to become me.  
I want you to become me.  
I want us to become one.  
We could shine through the sky together, shooting bright like a meteor, dazzling those on the ground with a trail of stars. We could be the dolphins leaping through the ocean, dancing in the deep azure without a care in the world. We could be the atmosphere, the electricity of the moment. We could bottle ourselves up to remember it and unleash the feeling of pure freedom whenever we're lost.  
You're my freedom. I feel fantastic when you're around, like I can't breathe simply because I'm in such awe. I feel strong, powerful, anything I could ever want to be. You're a breath of fresh air in this world that strangles me, you're the soft, comforting touch on my shoulder when I'm shaking in the corner of my bedroom. You're the soothing sound of piano music I put on the gramophone when I'm at the point of pulling my hair out, tugging on it and wishing it was yours, even for just one more moment.  
You're my everything.  
The rich chestnut of your hair, the deep cerulean of those eyes, the enigma of your soul. I want to crack all your codes.  
You're my little secret.  
Nobody knows what's going on inside you. Nobody knows who or what you are. Even I have only had the slightest glimpse, the window to your soul opening just a crack before you yank down the blinds and reinforce it twice as much as before. Sometimes I wish I'd never asked. When your insight and wisdom leaves me stranded, I find myself lost in the depths of your mind, wading through the fog and trying to find your comfort again.  
But I love those misty moors. I love your words, those that curl on your tongue before they spill from your gentle lips. The way they dance on your breath and reveal the world to me one at a time, and then all at once, a sudden gush of power and glee and every emotion anybody has ever felt overflowing from between that rosy flesh.  
I feel perfect when I'm by your side.  
You make me feel beautiful. Your gaze caresses me when I'm down, your touch slides against my skin and calms me until I feel like I'm worth your presence. Your heart, your mind, your soul are telling me that I do deserve you, and I can feel it emanating from you. When you're around, I'm bathed in golden rays of power and self-indulgence. You do everything for me and, in return, I would give you my all.  
Please take it.  
I can't express enough how much I need you. I can't express enough how much I wish you would take everything I have, take it all so that all I can focus on is you. I want you to be my all, my everything, my life. I want you to have possession of me like I have possession of you, your very soul intertwined with mine until we're soaring through the sky together. And when I die, remember not to leave me.  
I wouldn't be able to stand it if you left me.  
If you left me I would crumble. A broken wall with nowhere to lean against, nothing to support it except for the bugs eating it away piece by piece will never stand alone, and can only crumble into the ground. I would disintegrate until there was nothing left but an echo of what I once was. And even that would sound like you.  
Write me a symphony. I want to hear it spilling from the speakers, hear it reverberating off the walls and ringing around my ears for the next century. I want to hear you humming it to yourself, clicking the roof of your mouth and tapping your pencil against your cheek as you pen down the notes that will dictate your destiny. I want you to show me who you can be, show me your potential, show me your soul.  
I want you to be who you are. For me.


	8. Perfection

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Era: not specified, non-AU  
> Themes: Introspection, Established relationship

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why are they all like this?

Matthew dreams of Dominic. He dreams of his golden hair splayed out on the pillow, dreams of soft, tanned limbs wrapped around his own skinny form, dreams of sparkling grey eyes staring at him from across the room. Not content with only visiting him during the day, Dominic has captivated him past the point of return. Indeed he is infatuated, but he wouldn't have it any other way.

Because, for Matthew, this is something of a relief. He'd spent so long wondering if he'd ever fall in love. Numerous nights he had laid on his bed and doubted himself, his own capacity for love far outstretching anybody else's towards him. Nobody treated him the way he wanted to treat anybody else, and he hadn't had a long-term relationship in such a long time. Loneliness settled in his heart, and it seemed like it was the only thing here to stay.

Looking back now, Matthew feels like he was being melodramatic. He had everything he wanted: the band was successful and they were flying high on positive reviews and hundreds of album sales. Life couldn't be better for the trio, but Matthew still felt as if something were missing, not realising until now that it had been standing in front of him the whole time.

The change in status hadn't been too difficult. The pair had always been closer than most, and the sudden switch went unnoticed by many people. Only those astute enough to tell the difference between Matthew's wild mood swings and his purposeful changes in demeanour around Dominic ever guessed what had happened; for everybody else, they simply waited for an announcement.

It took a long time. Dominic didn't feel like he was ready. He said that Matthew was too eager, too clingy, too much like so many ex-girlfriends before him. Matthew told Dominic that he didn't care enough and maybe he should open his heart a little. The pair remained inseparable, but perhaps it was the arguing between them that kept them together. Both would, shamelessly, admit that they thrived on conflict, and the bitter words and barbs flung back and forth across the dinner table only fuelled the fire that they'd rekindle that night in their bunk.

Matthew smiles to himself in his sleep. The beginning was rocky, yes, but eventually things settles out. They found a path that seemed familiar, and they chose to walk it at their own pace. The two ambled along, hand-in-hand, helping each other through album after album, interview after interview. If one was distraught after a particularly scathing review, the other would hold him tight and kiss away his tears. If one got too excited after a post-gig party, the other would always be there to care for him and stop embarrassing himself too much-although Matthew took great joy in teasing the drunken Dominic.

They cared for each other so much that people began to envy them, jealous looks sent their way wherever they went. Trapped inside their own blissful world, they were invisible to Matthew and Dominic, who happily went about their daily lives without a qualm. The pair had found what they wanted most in life, and they were fully prepared to enjoy it to the maximum.

In fact, since that difficult start, everything had been pretty smooth since then. Matthew had been hung on the edge of his seat for a few years, waiting for the blow-up that he knew would happen. With all his past girlfriends, he reached the point where he thought they were finally communicating and suddenly she'd turn around and slap him in the face, screaming all his failures into his eyes.

Dominic never did that.

Matthew smiles again and rolls over, meeting a warm torso. In his sleep, his arm subconsciously wraps itself around Dominic's waist, long fingers stroking the skin of his back and twirling around a dimple in the otherwise smooth skin. Dominic shuffles closer to Matthew, seeking the warmth of the other man, the two locked in an embrace. He can smell Matthew's shampoo, fresh apples greeting his sleepy mind, and his hand finds his hair, stroking through the thick locks gently. His eyes fall shut again and the smoothing motions of Matthew's hand lull him back into a dreamless sleep.

Matthew bites the inside of his cheek as Dominic breathes out, his hair fluttering against the side of his face. He strokes it away and leans into the pillow once again.

It took them a while to find it but, when they eventually did, they found perfection.


	9. Observational

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Era: Whatever  
> Themes: Jealousy, Implied sex, Mild language

Matt sat in the corner of the bar, sipping at his drink and observing. A young girl was sat on Dom's lap, leaning down towards him and intentionally exposing her cleavage, Dom's eyes wide like a teenage boy. As Matt watched, he got up from the bar stool, their fingers intertwined, and left the room. Matt's eyes followed them to the doorway, where they disappeared upstairs. He downed the last of his drink and ordered another one.

His began his new drink, hoping to refresh his mind as well as his throat. But he couldn't focus. His mind kept wandering to Dom and wondering what he was up to, even though he knew full well. Unconsciously, his hand tightened around the glass as thoughts flew through his mind, his teeth grinding into each other slowly.

Would he be undressing her yet? Would he push her clothes off and admire her before his instincts overcame him? Would he press her down onto the bed and begin the gentle journey south?

Or maybe he wouldn't take it so slow. Maybe he needed to relieve some stress. Maybe he wanted it rougher, harder, faster.

Matt could be that. Matt would be anything Dom wanted him to be, and both of them knew it, yet neither acknowledged it. Dom continued to pick up girls and Matt continued to kid himself that he didn't care.

His drink tasted bitter as he sipped again, the world growing fuzzy even as he focussed his eyes. How many of these could he get down before he passed out?

Was he  _fucking_  her yet? Was he whispering in her ear, was she clinging to him and digging her nails into his shoulders? Were his eyes squeezed shut, his mouth hanging open, sweaty hair falling in his face? Was he thinking of anything or was his mind full of blinding colours, white-hot against his eyelids?

Matt shook his head, curling his fingers around the glass until he thought it might crack under the pressure. It didn't matter. None of it mattered. He could get his own girl if he wanted to. He could do whatever he wanted, whether Dom liked it or not.

And then he smiled to himself. At least the girl would be discarded in the morning. And then Dom would be his again.


	10. Your Song

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Era: TR, non-AU  
> Themes: Introspection, Established relationship, Fluff

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The first piece of Belldom I ever wrote, so excuse the quality

Matthew pulled out his acoustic guitar and quickly plucked the strings, fiddling with the tuning keys. Drop D. He'd had a melody in his mind for days, and it was finally time to let it out. He sat down on the bed and rested the guitar on his thighs, one hand holding the top of the neck, fingers wrapped around the fretboard, the other gently strumming the strings over the sound hole. The guitar was made of simple beechwood, but it was quite thick. He loved the sound it made, rich and full of life.

He placed his fingers in the right position and began to pick out a song. Slowly, he began making adjustments until all the sounds were perfect, all the notes made sense. It was a whole different language to Matthew, one he hoped to become fluent in. Music was his way of letting go, his way of controlling his emotions and letting them out, a channel for his inner self. As his fingers absentmindedly twisted the melody, he began thinking of lyrics that would match the song. It would probably be a soft song, possibly a love song, although maybe he'd change it up. They were a rock band, after all. He considered adding a simple drum beat in the background, one with lots of hi-hat and a bit of snare. It wasn't really his area of expertise, the drums, but he knew enough from all the recording sessions to get the general gist.

He rubbed the back of his neck before quickly practising the songs he'd been playing for nearly twenty years. It had been twenty years since he'd first picked up a guitar and began to play. How far he'd come. They'd gone from being a small town band making a racket to some of the biggest stadium rockers of the twenty-first century. They could make history if they wanted to.

He sometimes got in these moods, when he'd suddenly remember something that happened back in Teignmouth. He wondered if fame had changed him at all. The people he used to know said it had and, yes, he could see their point. Nobody normal would wear strange glitter suits. Nobody else would be able to afford to smash their £4000 guitar at least once a week. But the general essence of  _Matthew_ -was that still there? Was he the same boy he'd been? He hoped so.

Dom observed him quietly from the doorway, one arm resting gently on the guitar, his sharp blue eyes staring off into space, his small lips relaxed. His contemplating face. Dom admired how intelligent Matthew was. Not just in the subjects he enjoyed and knew plenty of facts about, such as music or conspiracy theories, but the way he acted about life generally. The way he thought things through. Even when he rambled on whilst talking until he'd gone off on a tangent, he always seemed to understand what he was talking about. He wondered what it must be like to have an active mind like that.

Dom enjoyed watching Matthew in these moments. He'd watched over the years, from the skinny little fifteen-year-old dreaming about revenge, to the blue haired man attempting to create a new album, to the worshipped-by-fans thirty-three year old lost in his own thoughts. Sometimes it felt like prying, but Dom never really worried about that. They shared everything. Besides, these were the moments when Matt was most natural. Although Matthew himself thought he was most himself when on stage, Dom knew that the glitter suit showman wasn't really him. The Matthew he remembered from school was small and timid but with a big voice and a great mind. He was capable of wonderful things, and these were the moments when he showed it.

Matthew blinked slowly and the presence of somebody standing in the doorway registered in his mind. He turned towards Dom and smiled at the golden angel standing there waiting for him. He patted the bed beside him and resumed playing, Dom carefully sitting down. The bed dipped under his weight and Matt felt his lips curl up at the edge.

"What's this?" Dom asked quietly as Matt played the new song, perfect now. The melodies wound around, interlocking with each other and drifting around the room, bouncing off the walls and reverberating in the corners. Matt turned towards him, fingers automatically finding their positions after years of practise.

"Your song."

 


	11. Oh Brother

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Era: Teen to BHaR  
> Themes: Fluff, tiny bit of angst

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, my little punk prince (Frank Turner) comes out to play. Here's a pretty great live version because the recorded one isn't on YT: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lPJs79kP4II

The two boys sat together in the garage, shivering in their jumpers against the cold. The dark-haired one picked up his guitar and slung the strap over his shoulder, gently plucking the strings to make sure they were all in tune. The blonde watched him, silently spinning drumsticks in his hands. He threw one up in the air and held one hand out to catch it, but it fell past his palm and clattered to the floor. The brunette laughed into his hand and cleared his throat.

"Are we just gonna go through what we did yesterday, yeah?" he asked.

"Yeah, I guess so," Dom replied, tapping his knees with the sticks as he thought. "You’re alright with the chords and stuff, right?"

"Yes, Dom," Matt sighed, rolling his eyes. "I was fine with them yesterday, and they day before that, and the day before that."

"I know, I know, but they’re difficult, you know?" Another eye roll followed by a strum of the strings and the boys were ready to go.

It wasn’t a particularly tuneful song that they played that day. Neither was too sure of how to play their instruments particularly well, and a year of exploration led to a few interesting sounds here and there, but overall they just made a racket. Still, when they looked up at exactly the same time and caught eyes, their matching grins expressed more than words, and the failed attempts at playing music, ever could.

**

Matt pushed his cereal around in the bowl as he stared at it. Somehow Cheerios didn’t seem appealing that morning, although it could have been the nerves that twisted in his stomach when he thought about the exams he had that day.

"C’mon, Matt, eat up your breakfast," his Mum urged him, leaning over his shoulder at the textbook he was reading in a last minute bet to cram in all the information. "What’ve you got later, love?"

"Science," he mumbled.

"Ah, you’ll be fine. You’re good at science!" She ruffled his hair and he groaned, smoothing it back down again. "Anyway, hurry up. Dom’ll be here soon, and you’ll be late if you miss him."

At the thought of seeing Dom that morning, Matt started shovelling his cereal into his mouth. His older brother Paul laughed from across the table.

"That excited, eh?" he chuckled. "You two are inseparable, I swear." Matt shrugged, mouth too full with cereal to reply. "I swear to God, sometimes I think he’s more of your brother than I am."

Another shrug, followed by a knowing smile and a twinkle in his eye had Paul sighing to himself and leaving Matt to finish up alone.

**

Five years later and the clattering noise had changed into something melodic, something that didn’t hurt the ears but almost soothed them. Matt was crooning into a microphone and blushing as he hid behind his hands, the lack of long hair to cover his face disconcerting but refreshing, in a way. Dom watched him from behind the drums as he readied himself for his part in the song, seeing the way Matthew leaned forward slightly, hands caressing the microphone as though it was the face of a lover. 

These years of endless practice had led them somewhere, at least. They’d been touring a few small places, seen a few hundred people, playing a few gigs; everything was starting to come together. Suddenly it seemed like their dreams weren’t quite so far away, as though they could reach out and just touch them if they stretched their hands. 

**

Matt giggled as the woman painted the colour onto his face, peering into the mirror in front of him and then shying away from it.

"You look like you’ve been rolling around in Wotsits," Dom remarked from the other side of the room, where another woman was padding the same orange onto his own skin.

"Yeah, well at least I don’t look like I had a sunbed accident," Matt retaliated.

"We’re both the same colour, you dick."

"Doesn’t suit your skin type. You look all sickly."

"Better than your white arse."

"Oi, you two, you’re both as stupid as each other," Chris yelled. "Now, could you please shut your gobs? I’m trying to read here."

The pair fell silent, but Matt’s lips began to twitch as he thought about Chris. He was twenty-three years old and already he was moaning and groaning like Matt’s granddad. The more he thought about Chris with a long white beard and a walking stick, the harder it was to keep in his laughter. When he looked up at Dom and saw a matching mischievous smirk on his face, they were both done for.

They burst into fits of laughter, the woman colouring their faces stumbling back as the men doubled over, Dom clutching at his stomach.

"I’m _trying_ to _read_ here!" he mimicked Chris, dramatically emphasising his faux posh accent. Matt started giggling even harder at that, and when the youngest man threw down his book and stormed out of the dressing room, the laughter shifted to silent gasps as they tried to regain their breath, cackling like children.

**

Matt’s phone buzzed, the vibrations travelling through the counter so that the whole tour bus was reverberating with his ringtone. He scowled, picking up the item and pressing a random button in the hopes that it would turn off.

“Is she calling you still?”

“She won’t stop,” he groaned, throwing the phone onto the sofa where it bounced onto the floor. He sighed to himself, kicking it away from him.

“You need to stop breaking things,” Dom laughed. You might be able to get new guitars after every gig, but your phone has important stuff. Like, maybe, your girlfriend’s phone number. That might come in handy.”

“Don’t even talk to me about her, right now, Dom. I can’t be handling this.”

After the dreadful week following Dom’s father’s unfortunate passing after Glastonbury festival, Matt had spontaneously taken off to be with him in Teignmouth for a little while before he was ready to go back on tour, forgetting to inform his girlfriend that he wouldn’t be on tour, nor would he be coming back to Italy. She only found out he was staying away for a while when she saw the postponed dates on the website, which resulted in an angry phone call and constant text messages after Matt hung up on her.

“You really should talk to her, mate. You know that she’s right.” Matt shook his head fiercely, looking up at Dom with a flicker of a disbelieving smile.

“She’s not right, though. I should probably have told her, but she has to understand. You’re my best mate and you’re grieving. I had to be there for you, no questions. Sh-she...she knows how important you are to me, and she should have known I was going to do that!” His eyes grew harder, his fists clenching slightly as his volume grew, his passion obvious. “I couldn’t abandon you when you needed somone. I’m supposed to _be_ that someone. I’m supposed to always be here for you, no matter what. And I will be. Damn it, Dominic, don’t you dare think that girlfriends will ever get in the way of that.”

He looked Dom directly in the eyes, startled grey meeting defiant blue. Dom’s lips were parted slightly, Matt noticed, and he was watching him carefully.

“I...don’t know what to say.”

“You don’t have to say anything. I just wanted to make sure you knew.”

He nodded, biting his lip.

“Thanks.” Matt grunted and shrugged, pulling a book into his lap from the side and flipping open the first page. “You know it goes both ways, right?”

“Yeah, whatever,” he mumbled, engrossed in his book.  Dom sighed, leaving Matt in peace and going to make himself some lunch.

**

“Matt, will you stop making noises?”

“I’m not making noises.”

“You’ve stopped now. But you were. And it was annoying.”

“Sorry.”

Silence.

“Hey, Dom, this is kind of like a sleepover, isn’t it?”

“Wh-what?”

“Well, it’s like we’re kids again. Remember we would sit up and talk for hours? We could do that again. Chris isn’t listening.”

“Matt we’re in our twenties, mate. And I can’t believe you’re just getting this now. Go to sleep, you fuckwit.”

Another pause.

“C’mon, Dom, we haven’t chatted in ages. I wanna know what you’re thinking.”

“I’m thinking that you need to shut up before you say something really stupid and I have to tape your mouth shut.”

“You’re mean. You’re worse than Paul.”

Dom grinned in the darkness, rolling onto his other side and ignoring the smaller man.

“Fine, I won’t tell you about that girl who asked after you. Or about the cool people I met who are trying to arrange some big arena gigs for us. I guess you’re not interested.”

_Or the fact that Gaia and I keep arguing and I don’t know what to do._

“Tell me tomorrow.”

Matt huffed in annoyance. Was it so difficult to get Dom to pay attention to him once in a while?

“Fine.”

**

“Do I really need to pour your cereal for you? Can’t you do it yourself?” Dom asked, tipping the box even as he said it and shaking it, hearing the flakes rattle inside. Matt pouted and shook his head, holding out his bowl. “You big baby! Should I pour your milk as well? How about a glass of orange juice with that for my little baby brother?”

“Yes please,” Matt giggled, the cup slowly filling with thick juice. He lifted it to his lips, licking up the little bits that were left on his lips and looking over at Dom making his own cereal. “Thanks, Dommy.”

“S’alright, Bells. God knows you could’ve asked for worse things.”

Matt cackled, spooning cornflakes into his mouth around his laughter.

**

“We could play Truth or Dare. We haven’t done that in a while.” Dom rolled his eyes, taking another large swig of his beer.

“You know everything about me and I know everything about you. It’ll just end up in tears again.”

“I didn’t cry last time! Or the time before that!”

“No, but Chris did.” They laughed at the memory, Matt’s cheeks tinged slightly pink.

“Fine. Well, you think of something better to do. We’re all alone and almost drunk and there so little on this tour bus we might as well be roaming the desert.”

“Put Knights of Cydonia on and then we’ll think of something.” Matt shook his head and groaned.

“I’ve had enough of it already. We’ve only been touring a few weeks and I’m sick of my own songs, oh, God!” He cried, always tending towards melodrama, and flopped onto his bunk, his face pressed into the pillow. Dom poked his bum with a drumstick and chuckled.

“C’mon, Grumpy Pants, what happened to playing games? You haven’t turned into a whiny drunk, have you?” Matt mumbled into the pillow, his voice muffled by the fabric. “What’s that? I didn’t hear.” There was another mumble and Dom poked him with the drumstick again. “Speak up, mate!”

“I said...” Matt began, lifting his head from the pillow so he could be heard clearly, “that you’d better watch out.”

“For?” Dom stepped back as Matt crawled back out from under the other bunk, hiding his face in his shoulder.

“Me! Ha!” He leapt at the blonde, pushing him onto the bed he was leaning against, Dom’s silvery eyes widening in shock as the smaller man crouched over him, wiggling his fingers.

“What are you-no! No, no, no, Matt-ahahah-stop!” He screeched as the fingers drilled into his pits, Dom’s eyes watering at the tickling sensations on his sensitive skin.

“Never! I reign the kingdoms under the name of The Tickle Lord and you will bow down to me, o inferior weenie one.” He raised his arms from Dom’s skin and lifted his head proudly, bashing it into the bed above him. His face contorted with pain as he bent back down again, rubbing his head and glaring at Dom as he rolled across the bed, clutching his stomach with laughter.

“The Tickle Lord just got beaten by a bed. How does it feel, o mighty one?”

“Sore,” Matt admitted, feeling an ache beginning to develop due to the awkward angle at which he was squashed. He pouted sadly as Dom calmed down, light giggles still diffusing out on occasional breaths. Dom looked up at his protruding lips, a familiar sight, and bit his own lip, raising a hand up to sling it over the back of Matt’s neck. He rubbed his head, Matt’s eyes falling shut as the pain eased.

“You’ll probably have a bruise there tomorrow,” Dom muttered, Matthew’s lips twitching slightly but remaining in a thin line, eyelashes resting on his pale skin. Slowly, Dom lifted his head to meet Matt’s, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. His eyes flew open and Dom found himself staring into churning, startled azure before he pulled back, leaning on his elbow to give himself some leverage.

“W-what was that for?” Matt asked, the bump on his head forgotten about as he took in the shock. Dom shrugged and looked away, ashamed of himself for giving in. Matt’s hands moved to cup his face, slim fingers, tracing along his cheekbones as he stroked the skin there, remarking internally on how Dom was losing all his puppy fat, sharp lines transforming him into a handsome man. He bent forwards, joining their lips together again and smiling when Dom didn’t pull away, the arm still resting on his neck tightening to pull him closer.

“This feels like incest,” Dom laughed when they broke apart.

Matt gasped, wide eyes penetrating Dominic’s own as he panicked.

“No, it can’t be! Can it? I mean, we’re not related, but then I guess we are like brothers, oh, shit, I-“ Dom laid a finger over Matt’s lips, still grinning at him.

“I was joking, man. Chill out.” Matt still looked quite troubled, but his bowed eyebrows started to relax as he laid down flat on Dominic’s chest, their bodies pressed together from head to toe. Dominic’s torso was a familiar comfort, the heat radiating from him Matt’s security when he lost himself.

“So...if we’re not actually brothers, and therefore that kiss wasn’t incest...can I do it again?” Dom chuckled bashfully and nodded, Matthew’s fingers wrapping around his wrist and tugging his hand to his chest as he pulled him into another kiss.

 


	12. Knee Socks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by  
> a. talks on twitter about these things  
> b. my own fantasies  
> c. the Arctic Monkeys' song. I might complain about them a lot but dAMN.  
> d. ALSO DAMN https://pbs.twimg.com/media/BUDlvjfIMAAejlb.jpg

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Era: T2L non-au (not including Kate and co. for convenience's sake)  
> Themes: Kink, leeetle bit of Smut (I'd say about R-ish)

Dominic had been witness to many of Matt's strange endeavours over time, from paramotors and mushroom fuelled hot tub sessions to enthusing about the latest gadget he'd bought and those weird trousers that had zips to turn them into shorts, but it seemed the strangest things were actually those that were normal. At least, they would be normal, but this was Matthew. Nothing he ever did was normal. And if he ever did anything vaguely considered acceptable, you could be sure he had mischievous intentions.

"What is it this time?" Dom asked, his voice verging on a sigh as he pushed through the doors of the practice room, having been called by Matt half an hour ago to tell him to arrive there early because he had a 'Super Amazing Thing That I Need to Show You'. Again.

"Look!" Matt exclaimed, his arms spread wide and the grin on his face even wider. "Look what I got!"

He glanced down at his legs and Dom peered down to see the latest addition to his friend's wardrobe. Thick, woollen socks stretched up Matthew's calves to his knees, and he could see Matt had rolled up the bottoms of his shorts to give a better view. A simple stripy pattern laced the wool and, upon seeing Dom's eyes roving over his legs, Matt wiggled his toes and giggled in delight.

"Aren't they amazing?"

"Matt, it's the middle of summer, mate. Aren't you baking hot in those?" Matt shrugged.

"Yeah, kind of. But I liked them too much. I'll probably put them away until winter. Or festival season. When's festival season?"

"Just finished," Dom told him, shaking his head in disbelief. "I can't believe you bought welly socks. I haven't had welly socks since I was about nine." Matt stuck his tongue out childishly and folded his arms across his chest, throwing himself into the chair. "Oh, now I see. You haven't grown up at all. How nice for you." The younger man pouted.

"Just because you're getting old and going bald doesn't mean you have to belittle the rest of us. You'll be sorry when you're stumbling around Glastonbury with blisters all over your feet, and I can assure you I won't be sharing my nice, comfy socks. Mm, they're _so_ comfy." He dragged his hand up his legs, closing his eyes and smiling at the softness of the wool against his fingertips. Dom rolled his eyes.

"I wouldn't want to share with you. You've probably got toxins in your foot sweat that would make me ill," he teased with a smirk.

"Rude."

Chris arrived at the scheduled time for their practise and they began to drift towards their instruments, playing a few of the songs they were hoping to perform on the upcoming American tour and thinking of ways they could change up the setlists.

By the end of the afternoon, Matt had had to hike his socks back up five times, and still one of them had slipped halfway down his leg, revealing a skinny calf and pale skin. Dom snorted at him, joking that he hoped his tour wardrobe looked better than shorts and Grandma's latest knitting project, but groaned when Matt's eyes lit up. All he had to do was open his mouth and Matt would get terrible, terrible ideas. He considered taping it shut and shook his head for the ninth time that day, wondering why he was dictating his life based on Matt after all these years of knowing him.

After Chris had left, informing them that Kelly had given him strict times to be home for dinner, Matt was fiddling with some of the buttons on his guitar, still searching for a sound he'd been craving and had yet to find. Dom watched him from behind the drumkit, spinning the sticks in his hands as Matt played a few chords, a crunching noise echoing throughout the room.

"What was that?" he asked, his eyebrows raised with interest as Matt looked over.

"Not quite right, that's what it was. I don't want it to be too crunchy otherwise it's not melodic enough, but I don't want it to be too melodic because I know how much the fans like to just rock out, y'know? I can't seem to get it perfect."

As Matt continued to work, Dom's eyes drifted to the hems of his socks, which had slipped further down his legs again and were revealing more and more of his skin. The left sock was almost at his ankle, the fabric piled around until it reached his feet. They weren’t really doing much good, considering his legs were still exposed to the air, but Dom found himself drifting off as he stared at Matt’s legs, his mind absently entertaining fantasies as he drummed on his lap.

He imagined grabbing him and throwing him backwards, a soft surface appeared beneath them as Matthew fell back onto cushions, a smile lighting his face as Dom’s hands slid up his legs to the crux of his knee.

“Dom.”

He could almost feel the skin beneath his fingertips, although his hands were stroking the smooth wood of his drumsticks, and he closed his eyes as he felt the voice slowly drift into his conscious state. Slowly, his eyes reopened and focused on the figure standing in front of him, the guitar now resting against the wall in the corner of the room.

“Dom?” His eyebrows were drawn together in concern, and those blue eyes were watching him curiously. Dom blinked and stared up into his friend’s familiar face, eyes tracing over the same contours and colours as he’d always been. The fine hairs on the back of his neck stood up as he thought over his daydream, suddenly aware of just what he had been thinking, and he swallowed nervously.

“You okay, mate?” Dom shook his head, holding a hand up to press it against his heated cheek as he bit his lip. This was Matt. Matt, who would constantly tease him and wake him up at stupid times in the morning to tell him about his day. Matt, who would mess around in the studio for hours only to throw a strop when he didn’t get his way. Matt, who bought stupid stripy knee socks and flaunted them all day, unknowingly dragging Dom into the depths of something he should be very, very afraid of.

“Feeling a bit faint, all of a sudden,” Dom mumbled, resting his elbows on his knees and placing his head in his palms. He closed his eyes and took two deep breaths. “Think the heat’s going to my head.”

“Oh, no, Dom, I hope you’re alright.” Matt moved closer to him, and all that Dom could see through the gaps between his fingers were stripes and slivers of skin. He hissed and buried them into the heels of his palms, discomfort distracting him from all the things he shouldn’t be thinking yet was. He felt a cool hand press against his forehead and sighed. “You do feel quite warm. I was just going to say it seems like a good time to head home now, so how about I drive you home and you can have a cold drink or something?”

“You don’t need to drive me home, Matt,” Dom groaned, his voice muffled by his hands.

“There’s no way you’re driving in this state! What if you crash? What would I do then?”

Dom shrugged, giving in simply to avoid the accusations he knew would be inevitable if he tried to argue. He stood up, still holding a hand to his head, and noticed he did feel quite woozy, although he knew it wasn’t from the heat. Matt’s hand was on his shoulder as he led him out of the practice room, and he was fully aware of his fingers curling around the bone, a strength to them that screamed ‘I won’t let you go’ but also a little bit of ‘you’re mine now.’ Both statements thrilled and terrified Dom, and he itched the side of his neck, shrugging off Matt’s hand with an ‘I’m an adult; I can get myself into a car.’ He pretended he hadn’t seen Matt’s pout and slipped into the passenger seat, flicking on the air-conditioning and letting out a deep sigh of relief. Cool streams of air brushed over his prickling skin, and he leant back into the leather, hearing the sounds of Matt buckling himself up and starting the engine.

“Are you sure you’re going to be alright when you get home?” Matt asked once they were on the main road. Dom cracked one of his eyes open to watch Matt, taking in his profile stark against the light streaming in through the window behind him, lighting up his hair and accentuating his sharp jaw. He glanced down his body, taking note of the socks that were still piled around his ankle. The sooner Matt got home and was out of the public eye, the better.

“I’ll be fine,” he said, waving off the concern with a lazy hand, “don’t worry. Everyone gets like this from time to time, right?” Neither mentioned the fact that Dom was accustomed to the heat, living in LA when they weren’t on tour, nor did they speak of how his increasing strength and stamina from multiple gym sessions made him the healthiest out of all of them. It was easier to ignore it and accept Dom’s reasoning.

Dom was dropped off at home without any further questioning, and he leant against the door as he waved to Matt, watching the car disappear around the corner before he unlocked his door, relief washing through him as he stepped into his own home. He didn't know what had got into him, but his skin felt as though it was crawling with hands. Every time he closed his eyes, all he could see was the curve of Matt's legs, and he scowled to himself, pulling out his phone and calling up and old friend. Perhaps she'd be able to heal him.

The following day, however, when they met up once again for rehearsals, Dom only found himself in an even worse predicament. Distance does make the heart grow fonder, after all, and the twelve hours they were apart meant that seeing Matt again was like a smack in the face. He rushed over to Dom immediately, asking him if he felt any better now that the weather was a bit cooler and not giving him a time to answer. Dom felt long fingers reach out to touch his face, Matt's eyes scanning him all over as he squirmed.

He tried not to look at the other man throughout the day, focussing only on his drumming, but he couldn’t help the glimpses he caught. Thankfully, Matt was dressed suitably, long trousers and a sky blue polo shirt not exactly the most fashionable of clothes, but still acceptable in general society. There were no signs of the socks.

As the day inched forward, Dom relaxed a little, sinking into his usual laid-back demeanour. He felt the tension leave his shoulders and could automatically hear the change in his drumming, the rhythm flowing like it usually did. The three of them worked in harmony, Chris nodding away to himself and Matt jumping up and down on the spot, restless energy ready to be released at the beginning of the tour.

However, he could feel himself starting to slip towards the end of the session. He wrote it off as fatigue, his arms aching slightly from the constant practice, and he was glad for the weekend that would follow that evening. He stretched his arms over his head after the final song and savoured the burning tingle that rushed through him, letting out a satisfied sigh. The drum stool creaked quietly as he got up and moved over to where he’d slung his jacket in the corner.

“It’s pissing it down out there,” Matt remarked, sitting in the desk chair and toeing off his shoes. Sure enough, when Dom peered out the window he could see streams of rain hammering down on the pavement, and could imagine the sound of it drumming on the roof. Thank goodness for insulated walls in places like this. “You might want to wait until the rain dies down a bit.”

Dom leant against the wall, watching Matt spin around once on the chair and kick his shoe completely off, revealing stripy socks underneath. His hands moved to his feet, pressing against the soles, and a smile flickered across his lips.

“Achy feet?”

“Yeah, the shoes are new. Don’t think I broke them in properly.”

“I don’t think you even have to break in canvas, Matt.”

“Whatever. Piss off.”

“But you just told me to stay.” The chair spun slowly until Matt was facing the blonde with a straight face, a steely look in his eyes. Usually, Dom would have scoffed and laughed, but today he couldn’t seem to look him in the eyes. He ducked his head, only to find himself staring at Matt’s feet.

And this time his gaze was noticed.

Silently, Matt moved the massaging hand to his ankle, pressing the skin around there and lifting the hem of his trousers, revealing more of the stupid socks. Dom swallowed and looked away, staring out of the window, chanting a mantra in his head.  _Maybe I have to look at his face to, y’know, remind me it’s just Matt. It’s just Matt. I don’t fancy Matt. I don’t fancy guys. Matt. Matt Matt Matt._

He turned back to face the brunette, watching the smirk appear on his face. However, the feeling of normality he’d been hoping for didn’t arrive. Instead, the nervous churning in his stomach increased, sharp azure eyes setting his pulse at a furious rate. Why had he only just noticed how lovely his hair looked when it was getting longer?

“You alright, Dom?” Matt inquired, lifting his leg to rest it on his knee. A flash of colour appeared in the corner of Dom’s eye, and he looked down to see that Matt had rolled his trouser leg right up to the knee, revealing the socks in all their flamboyant glory. His eyes widened at the sight, and his fingers twitched on his own knee, imagining tugging at the hems and-

“Tease,” he gasped, suddenly not caring that he was revealing everything. What did it matter if Matt knew? Maybe he just needed to get it out of his system.

“Yeah? What are you going to do about it, hm?” There was a playful lilt to Matt’s voice which Dom vaguely recognised, having heard variations of it all throughout his life, but his breath caught in his throat at the glint in his eyes. Matt reached one arm up to scratch an itch on his neck, letting his hand drift to the collar of his shirt and tugging it down slightly, stubby nails scratching lightly against his own skin. Dom was able to bear a mere three seconds of gaping before he pushed himself off from the wall, almost throwing himself onto Matt and pressing the wandering hands against the armrests. He caught a giggle amongst the midst of surprised gasps and allowed their breath to mingle, their lips only centimetres from touching.

Matt wiggled his fingers in Dom’s grasp, twisting to lace them together as he moved his hand to his fly, raising one eyebrow. He began to slowly inch the zipper down, watching the slight twitches of interest and arousal in Dom’s face and relishing the attention. He rolled his head back, exposing his neck slightly, and felt a strong hand force the zipper the rest of the way down, Dom growling as he yanked off the trousers.

Matt shuddered as his bare skin came into contact with the cool air, but it was soon replaced by warm palms traversing over his flesh, Dom exploring the skin of his thighs and wondering at how smooth it was. His hands trailed down to his knees, gently caressing the skin there, and Matt’s head fell back on a shaky exhale. Dom’s fingers came to the scruff of the socks and he slipped two fingers below the fabric, stroking the sensitive skin of the back of Matt’s knees and listening to the quiet whimpers he released.

He continued to finger the hem of the socks, tickling the skin there as his other hand drifted down Matt’s calves, thumb dragging over the flat bone in the front and fingers grasping at the muscles behind, the curve resting against his palm. Dom fell to his knees in front of Matt, who was still sprawled over the chair, and he chuckled softly to himself.

“You look like an incredibly unfashionable school girl,” he noted.

“I don’t think schoolgirls walk around in boxers,” Matt laughed, an airy quality to his voice.

“I suppose not.” Dom pressed a kiss to Matt’s knee and Matt’s foot jumped, knocking against Dom’s chest. His tongue lathed along the crux of his knee where the skin folds, pressing his lips to the thin skin and delighting in the way Matt trembled at his touch. Both of Dom’s hands returned to the elastic around the top of the socks, tugging at them and snapping one back against his skin. Matt yelped, feet kicking, and Dom muffled his laughter against the backs of his knees, lifting one leg onto his shoulder. Matt flexed his toes, pointing them towards the window. His eyes glazed over slightly as he let the pleasure flood through him, resisting the urge to thread his hands in Dom’s hair. He wanted those lips on his own, that was for sure. Wanted to feel him against him properly, not down on the floor by himself.

At the first kiss to his inner thigh, Matt’s mouth fell open on a shocked moan and his head snapped forward to watch as Dom inched up towards his hips. He quivered at the touch, feeling Dom’s strong hands slid underneath his knees to drag them towards him, taking control so that Matt was like putty in his hands. His dragged his nose along the hem of Matt’s boxers, pressing a final kiss there before he sat back, taking the leg from his shoulder and giving Matt a filthy smirk. The brunette looked significantly more flustered than before, and his pink cheeks positively glowed at the attention he was receiving.

Picking himself up from the floor, Dom adjusted himself so that he was able to rest on Matt’s knees, still within reach of the socks but also other, slightly more important areas. He pressed his forehead to Matt’s and whispered,

“I changed my mind. I love the socks,” before pressing their lips together. At the new contact, Matt’s fingers finally wound themselves into Dom’s hair, tugging on the golden blonde strands and pulling him closer until their chests were nearly touching. I could feel the roughness of Dom’s trousers rubbing against his bare skin but ignored it, instead focusing on the way their lips slid together and the way Dom’s touch brought out a person he didn’t know he was.

Dom’s own hands found their way to Matt’s hair, and he twirled a lock of brown around one finger before brushing it behind his ears, only to muss up the rest of it as he gently tugged on the strands, the kissing briefly pausing from Matt’s side of the embrace as he let out a stunned gasp, only to resume even more fervently than before, dragging his lips over Dom’s and teasing him with sharp flicks of his tongue. There was only so much time he could take without being in control.

Dom pulled back all of a sudden, Matt whining as he scooted back to his original position on Matt’s knees, his hands resting on his shoulders. They trailed down his chest past his nipples, brushing over the soft pillow of his stomach before they settled on his hips. Dom’s eyes were watching his hands and Matt’s eyes were watching Dom’s face, a breath held between his lips as fingers tiptoed beneath the waistband of his boxers.

“W-what are you, Dom, you-“ he stuttered, shaky breaths falling freely as he felt a hand grasping him, a wave of pleasure shooting through him and forcing his eyes to shut and his wet lips to part. Dom shushed him and pressed his lips to the base of his neck, able to feel Matt swallow and then exhale loudly, tiny, high-pitched noises escaping even as he tried to hold himself in.

“Can’t help myself,” he whispered, lips tracing a path up to Matt’s ear and peppering his jawline as his hand began to slide. “These damn socks turn me on too much. Had to have you.” Matt’s head fell forwards and his hair fell into his eyes as they slowly opened, watching Dom intensely as he continued to gift his skin with kisses. He lifted his arms to Dom’s shoulders, sliding them down over the powerful muscles of his back, built up by twenty years of drumming. He mapped the planes of his back with his fingertips, occasionally digging his nails in when Dom jerked him particularly hard, Dom’s hips bucking in return.

Matt’s head fell onto Dom’s shoulder and he pressed his lips against the column of his neck, able to taste a salty bite on his tongue. Dom sped up his actions, knowing by the way a stream of keening moans flooded from Matt’s lips that he was close to the edge. His free hand still trailed around the hem of the socks, and he hitched his leg up so that it was wrapped around his back, Matt almost sobbing with pleasure at the new angle. Dom’s hands slid down to his ankle and back up, snapping the elastic once more before he pressed a kiss to the top of Matt’s head.

There was a muffled cry as Matt let go, his eyes squeezing painfully shut and his arms clinging to Dom’s back like it was a life jacket. He shivered and twitched, gasping as he felt Dom’s hand continuing to work over him, dragging out the very last seconds until he felt like there was nothing left to give.

Slowly, he came back to himself, panting into the skin where Dom’s shoulder met his neck, able to feel his eyelashes brush against Dom’s skin when he blinked.

“I can’t believe I just did that,” Dom said, shock colouring his voice as he wiggled his fingers and slipped his hand out from Matt’s boxers.

“I can’t believe you just did that,” Matt replied in kind, his voice still shaking as he peeled himself away from Dom, a sheen of sweat making him cringe as the polo shirt stuck to his back. 

“I really like your socks,” he told him shyly, blushing a little bit as he tugged at them with his clean hand, and Matt giggled.

“I told you they would come in handy.”


	13. "Shame we chucked out that mask..."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pretty much the lamest present ever, but hAPPY BIRTHDAY HANNAH. YEAH. WOO.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Era: Whichever  
> Themes: Bit of fluff, endless cringing

"Will you shut up, Matt? I'm trying to watch this here!" Dom exclaimed, crossing his arms over his chest and angrily stuffing popcorn in his mouth. The characters on the screen battled and spat at each other, Dom watching intently and Matt watching him, his lips twitching in his effort to remain silent and not comment on their facial expressions.

A piece of popcorn hit the screen. Dom shifted on his seat, bringing his legs up to his side and leaning towards the TV. Another kernel flew in front of the film, followed by three more, which scattered across the room and rolled under the sofa. Dom sighed and paused the film, turning towards his boyfriend, who looked far too amused.

"Really, Matt? Can't you just sit and watch a film?"

"You know I can't sit still for too long, Dom. I can't just sit and watch this without actually doing something. I'll get too bored," Matt whined, shrugging his shoulders before tossing his head back and chucking a piece of popcorn into the air. It landed on his nose and bounced off into his hair. Frowning, he pursed his lips and searched for it blindly, his hand brushing over his hair in frantic movements.

Rolling his eyes, Dom reached around and plucked it from his hair, tossing it onto the floor with the other discarded pieces. He looped his arm around Matt's shoulders, bringing him slowly towards him so Matt's head was resting on his chest, his feet tucked neatly under his bum. In his new position, Matt was much more comfortable, and he leant his head over Dom's heart, closing his eyes to the sound of his steady pulse. Dom's arm tightened around him in a comforting embrace as he continued to feed himself popcorn almost rhythmically, focussing on the film.

 Matt could just about hear what they were saying, and he occasionally let out little silent laughs. He peered over Dom’s arm at the telly, watching the two men in ridiculous costumes prancing around in the middle of the street, the masked one grumbling to himself. He bit the inside of his cheek to stop the laughter bursting through his lips, not wanting to annoy Dom again. However, he could hardly hold back his giggling at one point, and Dom grumbled as he felt Matt shifting awkwardly against him.

"What's so funny now?" he asked, Matt's laughter louder than the film.

"Why does he say these stupid things?" Matt gasped through his laughter. "'Holy Macaroni, Batman!'" He burst into peals of laughter again and Dom found himself chuckling along, unable to resist the contagion.

"It is kind of weird. I don't know why he does that." He pressed 'play' and continued to watch the film, the pair snuggling into the sofa together, Matt's interest having been caught. The film continued for about five more minutes before the TV suddenly switched itself off and they were plunged into darkness, pitch black wrapping itself around them.

"Holy Merlin Magician," Matt whispered, the pair snuffling laughter as they tried to find their way to the light switch. Dom's hand fumbled against the wall while Matt was floundering in the darkness, and suddenly the lights flickered on. They sighed in relief.

 "So it's not a power cut, at least," Dom muttered, scowling as he looked at the TV. He'd been so looking forward to watching the film, and yet he'd been constantly interrupted and now wouldn't get to finish it at all. Matt glanced over and noticed his disappointed pout, his natural instinct to walk over to Dom and stroke his arm soothingly, kissing his neck and winding his arms around his torso. He pressed his face into his shoulder, mumbling,

"We've still got each other."

"Holy Cheeseballs, you got corny!"

Matt giggled again, his hands slipping down Dom's back and finding their way to his trouser pockets, slipping inside them ad squeezing his arse through the fabric. Dom yelped and scolded him playfully, glad for the new attention.

"So...what should we do now, Batman?" Matt inquired, a cheeky tone to his voice as he pulled his head back and raised one eyebrow.

"Matt, you're not-" A finger touched his lips and he paused.

"Shhh. Who's Matt? Is this our next villain? He sounds like a piece of work." Dom cottoned on immediately, relaxing against the wall and nodding.

"Oh, yes. He's your favourite nightmare." He snorted at his own joke, which flew over Matt's head as he leant forward, their faces nearly touching.

"Mmm? And, do you have plans to go out and save the world again? Be a hero?"

"Perhaps I might. Although I do have other, more important things to conquer than the city." Dom lowered his voice so that it was at the bottom of his range, and Matt's lips quirked to the side as he briefly fell out of character.

“Such as?”

“I’m gonna conquer your arse,” he growled in the deepest voice possible, Matt giggling softly as his interest was piqued.

“But you don’t have any superpowers, Batman!” he cried, feeling Dom push him away from the wall and sweep him up into his arms, staggering to the door. “How on earth will you ever get to me?” Dom lent down as he started to climb their stairs, Matt’s fingers wrapped around his bicep and clinging onto him, and whispered something into his ear. Matt bit his lip, his cheeks flushed as Dom pulled back, staring him down.

“Holy Guns and Roses, Batman,” the brunette murmured, Dom winking at him as he raced up the stairs and they disappeared through the bedroom door. 


End file.
